Commander Jol'kar
by ikhan11
Summary: actually part of a battle report, but one that caught my imagination- please r+r :)


Inhumanly fast, the leader of the depised aliens finished off Commander Obai with a contemptuous flick of its wrists, and turned toward brother Jol'Kor with hideous murder in its alien eyes, moonlight glinting from the poisonous blades attached to its hands....  
  
Not dreams, for space marines do not dream, but memories....  
  
Commander Jol'Kor sat bolt upright from his rest cycle and rose from his slab. The terms "night" and "day" held no meaning out here in the void of space, but if Jol'Kor had been on a planet, it would have been very early morning indeed.  
  
But he was not on a planet, he, along with his second brotherhood had picked up the warp transmissions of a Dark Eldar Kabal and had hastily moved to intercept them.  
  
The Commander said a morning prayer to his armour spirit and quickly donned his ancient armour over his heavily scarred body, connecting the respirator covering his mouth to the internal air systems of his power armour.  
  
He left his blank rest cubicle in thr heart of the giant battle barge and made his way to the cathedral like room where Father-Chaplain Orobail would soon be taking morning prayer in preperation for the day's battle.  
  
Jol'Kor spitted the purple clad warrior on one of his huge lightning claws, and sliced the head from another. On his left and right his command squad dispatched the rest as they tried to run. The battle had been going well, until something had begun cutting down his warriors like corn, and bolstered the Dark Eldar lines. A leader, an Archon.  
  
Jol'Kor had decided to actively seek this Archon out and kill him or her.  
  
Sor'jai, his faithful veteran sergeant spoke his name and pointed with his crackling power sword to the blasted ruins, where dark shapes moved...  
  
Blades glinted, and flashed toward him...  
  
Jol'Kor roared and boosted toward his intended prey. The dark Eldar sprang from the ruins as the command unit charged. A sleekly armoured Incubi stood in front of him, his bladed staff spinning. Jol'kor backhanded the alien out of the way, and leapt on the darker shape behind.  
  
...Agony, unbearable flooded through his head and chest, flesh rotting, skin blackening, an arrogant laugh...  
  
The leaders of the White Scars brotherhood and the alien Kabal clashed together. The Archon spun and weaved, jabbing and slicing faster and faster, but the White scars where lightning, and Jol'Kor had spent decades perfecting his techniques, becoming faster and faster, and matched the alien strike for strike. He looked the alien in his blood crazed eyes, and the blade caught him a thin slice in the stomach and a familiar pain flooded into him.  
  
...months of agony in the Apothecarion, healing, rebuilding under the ever constant pain...  
  
The Eldar sneered, and attempted to finish off the Commander, but Jol'Kor met him swing for swing once more, but again the Archon slipped under his guard and ripped away the respirator from his face, exposing a ruined face of exposed bones and scar tissue.  
  
...memories of death, and the thought of release, but then the thought of service to the khan and the emperor, and the return and more pain...  
  
A glinting hand drew back in infinate slowness, preparing for the killing strike.  
  
...memories of recovery, and a scarring, a scarring of demanded vengance, a blood oath stronger than life, stronger than death...  
  
...memories of a mighty warrior, a primarch chasing these filthy aliens into the warp thousands of years ago, a debt never repaid...  
  
With a roar for his legion's and chapter's lost Great Khan, Jol'Kor swung both claws at the Archons waist, crackling for a moment on a force field, but sudden release and the effortless shearing of bone and armour, until his hands reached each other and the alien fell in two halves, a disbelieving look on its face.  
  
Ruddy light from the braziers shone from bladed implements in the cathedral room on the battle barge. A fresh scar glowed angry red on Commander Jol'kor's chest, over the decades old one near his sergeant scar, just some of many almost covering his naked form.  
  
He stood in front of his Company, power armour connecters standing out from his chest like rivets. He lifted his bloody fist above his head, and roared.  
  
"In the name of the Great Khan, a debt repaid!"  
  
The echo resounded around the massive room, filled with the voice of a hundred space marines praising their Khan. 


End file.
